Victorious Drabbles
by Alienzz
Summary: A series of random one-shots in different genres, also taking requests.
1. Chapter 1

Victorious

Drabbles

Disbelieved

 **I don't own Victorious and if you've read this chapter before I decided to spread them out.**

Jade stands before her, glaring dead ahead. The distance between them is quite large, but even then the raven haired belle can feel her opponent's burning gaze.

A smile slips unto Tori's lips, her fusion red pupils outglowing her eyes in a burning shine.

She steps forward, her fluid TRON gear leaving a halo tracer lines in her wake. Her smile widens and her speed increases.

Jade sets her footing firmly, lending a hand to the side and forming a light ball. She grabs the ball and it extends giving form of a ribbed, remedial claymore.

Whipping it into her sight, she runs it along the open palm of her free hand, tracing her sight to the red beam headed her way.

She evades it, spinning in an aerial somersault to safe ground before, moving in on her target.

Tori dodges her opponent's strike, but is thrown by the backlash of the blade. She finds her footing a few feet away and releases a barrage of fusion beams, blasting light balls from her open palms.

Skillfully maneuvering her body to avoid the rays, Jade dodges beam after beam, blocking when necessary.

Tori takes advantage, breaking the speed barrier at a blurring pace. She lands her first hit of the fight, knocking her opponent a great distance with a hard fist to the side of her face.

The warrior tumbles repeatedly, then goes airborne spinning and lands, blowing dust clouds as she screeches back from the fading impact.

Her eyes lock on the figure seconds before it hits, but her vigor is still fresh. At a speed rivalling lightning her sword arm shoots up with a deadly reverse hold slash.

The resounding flash sound common to the STAR WARS franchise signifies the claymore never hit home.

In its path, a glowing replication of a World of Warcraft broad sword, rests its weight. Tori's smirking face is inches from her opponent's, each shaking from the force the other is putting into the blades.

Jade grits her teeth and bites back the urge to join the brunette's infectious grinning. Grappling her hilt, initiates Arming Sequence, causing the end of the claymore to glow a bright purple.

The force of the blast boosts Jade's swing, sending Tori spinning through the air.

The younger Vega's blade leaves her grip, whirling horizontally beside her as they both fly back. She comes to, balling up and grabbing the blade before hurling herself, a spinning red ball.

Jade zooms backward, clearing distance where Tori impacts the ground, then thrusts straight ahead, bolting for the smoking crater left by the impact.

Bursting out of the skyward pillar of smoke, Tori rotates her blade, swinging to release a radiant slash at her enemy, who leaps into a backflip, balling up midair and launching at the brunette.

The blow knocks Tori unto her back, Jade rolling off as Tori immediately throws herself to her feet. She bends backwards, evading a full slash before righting herself and taking a swing at Jade, who grabs the fist, jabbing her hilt into Tori's stomach and flipping her over herself.

Tori lands on her feet, throwing a spinkick, followed by a roundhouse that catches Jade in the jaw. She slashes down, but hits dust as Jade sidesteps, swinging a punch at her face. Tori pulls just quick enough for it to miss and swipes her blade missing widely as Jade stunts a cartwheel, gliding over the blade before backing her elbow into Tori's face, throwing her off a bit.

The relapse time is so little permitted, the next move almost goes unseen. With shocking speed, and seemingly no break between the last attack and the next, Jade twists for a backswing.

Tori is only quick enough to defend with her other arm and the Claymore wedges firmly into the flesh, stopping with a chip at the bone. Blood trickles down the gash, gracing the metal and rolling off the flesh in crimson drops.

Tori's breathing is ragged and shaky, her glowing eyes wide with disbelief. Jade's bluish green pupils portray an almost similar reaction, but more fear and realization, than anything else.

 **"She mustn't see her own blood" Trina says, warning Jade of the dangers of confronting her sibling.**

 **"You said the only way out is to kill her" Jade reminds, absently stroking the young forehead of the heir to the Valentine Dynasty, the only thing left of her friend, her faux family, and hope itself.**

Tori's smile disappears and her breathing hitches, her brows furrowing as the glow in her eyes brightens by a light-year.

 **"It is, but seeing her own blood brings bad memories, it brings her pain and well she becomes unstoppable" the brunette explains, her eyes glazed over, reliving past fears.**

 **"And how's that different from right now?" Jade asks, raising a pierced brow at the older woman.**

 **"She advances, it's what keeps happening" Trina says, then takes the Goth's free hand, squeezing the only sane piece of life she has left, "Promise me you'll get out of there if it becomes too much".**

 **"Trina, you act like we never met. I don't make promises, remember" Jade adjusts her leather jacket, looking to her war ridden halo cycle.**

 **"I need you to promise me this. I can't be left alone, this child needs you as the only one the Valentine's truly trusted" she pleads with her eyes, watching the emotionless pools of green swim into blue.**

 **Jade sighs, closing her eyes only to throw them back open. The memories come back every time she does, the most painful ones. The ones close enough to her heart to be called loved ones, the ones buried so deep in the rubble to be called memories.**

 **"Remember Jade, you of all people should know gods or not, we are not immortal" she brings the palm to rest in the middle of her chest, a glow spreads into an eagle light tattoo and Jade chuckles, tears filling her eyes as she feels the millions of unborn souls, roaming under her fingertips.**

 **The warm light highlights the woman's face and she looks into Trina's eyes, which glow brightly.**

 **"The New World needs to wake up to their hero. Their counting on you" the Trina speaks, being the World Vessel, her voice is echoed by the thousands within her, "Hope is counting on you".**

 **Jade's eyes land on the oblivious toddler, who cackles and grins toothlessly at her making her laugh. Its eyes are pure, untainted amber. A true Valentine.**

 **"Alpha, you best get a good seat" Jade says, moving and placing a kiss on the child's forehead, then pulls Trina to her, "I may not come back, but I'll make sure to out with a bang".**

 **The hug is warm and accepting, a first between the two.**

And a last.

Jade growls and her eyes glow, one blue the other green, while her blade becomes increasingly bright. Tori's rage filled screams are directed at Jade, pouring out her pains and those of the world which she bears. From her very first painful thought to the very last of every dying soldier that ever lived, in a tearful scream. The glow around her growing rapidly with every tear.

Jade shuts her eyes, letting her good thoughts, the thought of Trina, the thought of Hope, the thought of the new world grace her mind before embracing the worst of it all, from Erwin's death to the fall of the soldiers of the Recon team.

The blast sends a massive beam into the stars, the wave spreading beneath to obliterate the world.

Trina's breath catches and her grip on Hope tightens, in the depths of her eyes the blast is mirrored. A lone tear makes its way down her cheek and she stares into the depths.

The empty darkness.

The abyss to be filled by the new world.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Victorious.**

Almost there.

She keeps motivating herself, racing the rooftops in a fit to escape the Quins, law enforcement agency with a frightening sense of skill and strange abilities.

She leaps off the edge, turning to face the sky with her arms stretched out as she plummets, deep red hair streaking in the wind.

The Quins, three in number, screech to a halt. Their titanium capped boots sending sparks from the metallic roof. Their uniform consists of a high collar studded jacket with fingerless gloves, and a pair of tight frocks. The large clock worn as a belt is of a similar alloy to the knee guards and the collar edge.

The one in the middle, tall and fiercely gorgeous, wears a pair of aviation goggles, pulled to rest on top of her raven locks. She turns to her partners, one a curly haired male, the other an attractive brunette female. Both in similar uniforms.

"Do we let her go?" Tori asks, adjusting her pigtails.

"That's the force's job. Our job is to fix that" Robbie replies, smirking and pulling his goggles over his eyes.

Both pause and look to the girl in the middle, her blue green eyes seem indifferent, but from her from her gaze at the point the red head had fallen, it's obvious she's in.

"Are you waiting for me?"

They leap off the edge, holding in arms and legs so they descend like spears at wind breaking speed.

"Got her in my sight" Tori calls over the wind, watching the girl make her way through the crowded market.

"Break!" Jade orders and they all spread out, stretching arms and legs out to slow their descent.

Tori whips her hands, then aims an open palm at the metal of a nearby scaffolding, sending out a metal impression of her hand to act as a grappling hook.

The others follow, attaching themselves to the scaffolding and continuing the chase.

Cat halts, making a hard right and bolting down an alley.

Her outfit, a black turtleneck with a large watchlike belt worn like a sash over her chest and a full knife holster around her waist over a dull red knife pleated skirt and a pair of metal studded combat boots with heightened soles.

The alley seems to get tighter as she moves further, watching the crack above.

She stops at a dead end, cursing and reaching for her weapon.

"Stop!" Robbie calls landing behind her, a mechanically adjusted rifle in his arms, aimed at her.

Cat smiles to herself.

'Of all the ones to get her, they sent him' she thinks to herself, keeping a grip on her blade.

"Robbie, whatever you do, don't let her leave" Jade orders through her headset.

"Got it" he answers then turns to the girl in front of him, "Hands where I can see them".

"What are you, the force?" she quizzes jokingly and he cocks the rifle, shutting her up.

"Hands. Up".

"Oh, you mean like this?" she asks, raising her hands above her head and stretching in a suggestive manner, bringing his eyes lower.

Almost certain he's distracted she swiftly reaches for a knife, and Robbie, noticing the move fires.

Both moves were a gamble and Robbie, almost certain he'd got her was already feeling the guilt at his random act.

Then again, he was almost certain.

It misses by a whisker, whizzing past Cat's arm as she shoots upwards using a similar grappling mechanism.

"Robbie! Did you kill her?!" the fear in Tori's voice has nothing to do with guilt of taking another life, but rather their contract with the force, which specifically asked for Cat delivered alive.

"Worse, she escaped" he growls, jumping after her and swinging his rifle back over his shoulder.

"Worse!? You could have broken the contract you fool!" Tori yells into her headset, swinging after the red haired bandit, a shock gun firmly in her grip.

"Quiet! She has the stolen gear and she's using it" Jade informs, watching in amusement as the girl swings recklessly with the advanced movement device.

"Pssh! obviously a novice" Tori comments, retracting her gear arms and balling up allowing herself to drop into one of the slits between building, "I'll cut her off".

Cat pulls back her shirt sleeve turning over her watch to show a small screen at the bottom.

A brown haired male shows on the screen, a frustrated look plaguing his handsome features.

"Where are you?" he ask, gritting his teeth to stop from yelling.

"A block away" she answers, looking up. In her sight is a medium sized chimney breathing sky reaching fumes.

Her only chance.

"I'm on my way, keep the tract open" she informs him and looking around, both Jade and Robbie can be spotted at her sides.

She sprints for the end of the building, sending forth the hands and using them to sling shot herself into the air, heading straight for the smoke, from where it's supposed to be a smooth ride down the chute and into Base.

"I am never doing this again" she says, and suddenly a form shoots out from the streets below, aiming straight for her.

She sidelines it narrowly and focuses on the smoke, starting to doubt her chances of escape.

'Once I reach the smoke, I'm in the clear' she repeats to herself.

A bullet whizzes past her shoulder, grazing her lightly but it's still enough to distract her as she stumbles.

"Now!" Jade orders, holstering her pistol, and Tori fires the shock gun.

Cat turns to the approaching chute, frightened beyond belief.

And as the the electric net gets closer, Cat wonders if this is the last time she'd ever see the chute, much less the loving people hidden beneath.

The net wraps round and she reaches out. So close, almost into the fumes.

Almost.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own Victorious.**

"Beckett" Jade calls, causing her boyfriend to groan.

"What is it, Jade?" he asks calmly, stroking her hair where it lies in a mess on his lap.

"Nothing" she says, stairing at the cieling oh his RV.

He sighs, returning his eyes to the TV on the rack, his eyes are a still bit sore from the highly feminine, yet highly effective pepper spay a certain friend had accidentally dosed him with.

The effect should have worn off sooner, but his overly protective girlfriend had lost her temper and refilled his dose.

Now here she lies, sulking at the ceiling while resting her head on his lap.

"Beckett" she calls again and he turns to her, she takes in his face and eyes, taking in his worth and pondering on her apology.

"Nothing" she dismisses and begins playing with the hem of his shirt.

Really, it is. Because nothing at all comes to mind, no words can explain what she did or why she said it.

"Why are you with me?" she asks, looking at her nails.

"Because I love you" he answers.

"Bullshit!" she says, pushing off of his lap and glaring at him

He groans, sometimes she can be impossible.

"That's a lie because I'm impossible to love, with the way I act you're supposed to hate me" she argues, turning away from him.

"Are you really going to start arguing whether I'm supposed to love you or not" he asks, and she remains silent, clenching her jaw.

Her anger is directed mostly at herself for being so unbearable, but something the Goth hates is being lied to. And if even she is angry with herself, she doesn't see why Beck doesn't hate her guts and concludes he's lying.

Beck gets to his feet and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" she asks, getting up too.

"To fix my car, it needs work" he answers and this angers her.

"See, this is what you always do, you walk out in the middle of everything and we never talk about these things" she yells, and he shakes his head before walking out.

Jade fumes, considering following him and causing a scene or wrecking everything in his RV.

The tune of Bread's Diary comes up and she grabs the source, throwing it against the door.

Beck picks his old skate board and his tool from the back of his truck, then lies on his back, sliding underneath the Ford.

After a short while, he feels a pair of hands on his feet and he's dragged out from underneath the car.

"Here, I brought you something to quench your thirst" she hands him a can of Dr. Pepper, then sits on his laps, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry about your phone" she apologizes and he brings her closer.

"It's okay" he answers.

"I appreciate everything you do" she whispers into his ear and he smiles.

It wasn't I love you, but it was the closest thing to it she'd said to him since her withdrawal after Cat's death.

She needs him, she wants him and she'll do anything in her power to make sure he never leaves.

He knows she still loves him, but it'll take a while to get that out of her.

And as long as it takes, he's willing to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Victorious.**

I've been running for a half hour now, Ryder is still no where in sight. He can't just disappear, his wings were broken. One of them at least, I made sure of that.

My crossbow is clutched in a firm grip at my side, hunting knife concealed in my combat boots and a loaded military issued shotgun, complete with nicotine laced bullets. My limp is pretty bad, but I'm sure I can still take his sorry ass.

I hear a whimper in the distance and suck in the clear forest air, going into stealth with a precise bolt in the works of my crossbow.

Closing in, the sounds become clearer. Definitely not him, their most likely cubs. Cute little devils. I pick out three darts, dipping their tips in the glowing liquid pouch before pulling the tranquiliser.

In three shots, I have three weary cubs lulling off to never land. I wonder if the mother heard that.

I almost smile watching them sleep. The creatures are so adorable in their infancy, little wolves with tiny birdlike wings.

"You should have gone home, hunter" the voice is Ryder's, he's behind me. The renewed confidence in his voice tells me something's wrong.

I don't need to turn to find out. They begin to rise, surrounding me. Rockies, we call them, a rare mix of werewolves and fallen angels.

Suddenly, I don't feel so confident. A human soldier versus a Rocky is barely a fair fight. A Vega versus three Rockies, that's a fair fight. Born to a bloodline of supernatural hunter's, Vega's are gifted with the natural ability to defend themselves, a gift which grows with every supernatural being killed.

I take time to turn, slowly making a mental note of their number and various positions. Seven, including Ryder. I can handle about four, the other three will have to wait.

I make quite a show of reaching for my shotgun and they snarl, flashing bright fangs. It's a simple distraction they fall for each time, go for the thing they fear most and use that time to prepare a real attack. The weapon with the highest range, the crossbow is my choice.

I pull the gun and Ryder leaps forward. Hot headed, dumbass.

Ducking swiftly, I spin under his projectile form, taking aim with the cross bow. The shots are in rapid succession. The first shot catches one in the neck, the next two go right between the eyes, but the last one misses.

Still crouched, I pick up heavy footfalls from behind me and unsheathing my hunting knife I throw a backflip, soaring over the winged beast before sinking my blade right between it's shoulder blade. The landing is kind of rough, my bad leg taking most of the impact and making me stumble.

Sadly, my distraction is enough to have myself tumbling from a massive paw to my arm, leaving bloody claw marks and an almost dislocated limb.

Good thing I wore Tori's old ring along with mine, if not, I'd have a broken arm and most likely shattered ribs.

Their quick to follow up, but I'm on my feet already, slipping past their clawed paws and snapping jaws. This is not easy, cause their fast. But, it's only three of them, so I can handle it.

Then I hear a frightening roar, not just an angry Rocky, more like an emotional one. Caught between extreme sadness and rage.

"Mine!" the gold hued white wolf barks in a commanding tone, running towards me. The others reluctantly step back.

It's just arriving, because I'd have noticed it's unique colour if it was among the seven.

From the look, it's not an Alpha, or a Beta. So it's grudge with me might be personal, not that I actually interact with them on a friendly level.

Halfway to me the Rocky transforms, becoming human, but in no way slowing down.

I'm so confused, I'm unable to counter her first attack and I end up having my hair yanked forward and a flying knee to my face.

Okay, she most likely has actual combat skills. This is weird, because normally Rockies usually depend on their ability and almost never need to gain any real fight skill.

I step back, raising my fists to block her next swing before spinning a roundhouse. She's good, but not fast enough and it almost misses catching the end of her chin. Her blue eyes glow in fury.

No wait, green eyes... they seem to keep changing colour.

I bend back, evading a swift high kick, but she's smart and brings it down, aiming for my midsection. I twist out of line of attack, spinning upright and landing backhanded fist to her nose. I feel it crack slightly against my knuckle.

She reels a little, wiping the blood escaping her nostril. She's actually incredibly pretty, pale skinned like her wolf with bluish green eyes and full sensual lips. Her hair is a bold black colour.

"This is a waste of time" one of the three Rockies remaining yells. His viscious snarl gathering saliva like a rabid animal. Disgusting.

"Let's get rid of her. You can have your revenge on her corpse, Jade" another agrees, the only thing distinguishing the three brown wolves apart from the slight shade difference being their eyes and the fact that one has a scar on his muzzle.

Jade, the name suits her.

"No!" she yells, seemingly occupied by the thought of killing me. Not, that I really mind our fight. She's not as good as I first thought, but she's more fun than her relatives.

"You guys can decide what you want, but I've already taken down who I came here for" I inform them, pointing to Ryder's corpse. "And, I need to get home".

They all stare at me in angered, yet confused silence. The look makes more sense on the girl's face.

"Okay, I'm gonna get my shotgun over there and you guys do what you will" I say, heading for the gun, which had been dropped when that wolf put the smack on me.

The threatening growls inform me that their back in business. I don't turn, rather I increase speed, snatching up the gun and tumbling myself. It's a trick I learnt in school, works well for bullies. Run, wait until their inches from grabbing you, then roll over. They never know what hits them when they end up face first on the pavement.

The move worked, though the impact was quite something. Luckily, I was able to get the shotgun up before the next guy could lock his massive jaws around my arm, blasting a fist sized hole through his skull.

I get to my feet just as it's body hits the ground, going up in thick black wisps of smoke. The girl is already there with a running clothesline, that knocks me over. Somehow, it works to my advantage as the impact spins me in a backflip and I find time to fire another shot before landing on one knee. Again the bad knee.

It's just the girl and another Rocky left, I can do this.

The Rocky does something I don't expect, something I'd quite forgotten they could despite the obvious presence of wings. He lifts of the ground with heavy flap, blowing up a few dead leaves.

One small problem, remember my theory before? One Vega versus three Rockies?

Once they begin to fly, Rockies have a slightly larger advantage, but it's something they rarely do and it never lasts long anyway. If I can outsmart him long enough, he'll fall back and take on human form, so usually this is always a last resort.

"Okay" I say, cocking the gun. He flies higher, gaining altitude with each flap of his night black wings before going in circles around me, gradually picking speed.

The crossbow would be perfect now, but it's out of reach, and it's be sucide to think I can run through the whirl wind he's making around me.

It's quite hard to see now and the air is thinning. I'm panicking slightly, but I'm not dumb enough to go taking wild shots and wasting bullets.

This is why it's best to have a partner, but my dear sister is no longer available. Having once, let her emotions get the best of her, she hunted down a Skinner, a demon that makes a show of skinning it's prey and wearing it to hunt. It was hard for her because it's latest prey had been her best friend Andre and she had to fight the creature wearing his skin, it has the ability to master the pained screams and uses it in battle. So with every hit Tori landed Andre would scream. She got knocked out, almost skinned, but was saved by the damage she'd caused to Andre's skin. The Skinner can't stay in it's own form for long. It will eventually wither and die. We had her memory wiped after that, told her Andre died in a car accident and there were no such things as monsters.

Come to think of it, this may just be a ruse, so the Jade girl can call for reinforcement.

Wild shot or not, I need to get out of here.

Luck comes with just the first shot, busting a wing and sending him tumbling. As presumed Jade is nowhere to be found.

I should take this chance and run home. I shouldn't even bother killing the last guy, he's unconscious and the poison from the bullet is already turning him to dust.

But, instead I wipe some of her blood off my knuckle, swabbing it on a slide on my night vision goggles and pulling them on. It immediately traces her DNA, scanning and forming a trail she took.

I take to the trees, going from branch to branch to avoid being caught by her pack on level ground. I just want to find out what her grudge is all about.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Victorious or Tokyo Ghoul.**

I need flesh.

The young girl raves, barreling through the dark alley in a mix of striking fear and maddening hunger as she lives through the nightmare with a blood curdling yearning for human flesh.

Her bright red pupils glow in the midst of pitch black eyes, a ghoulish grin splitting her face as her make up runs in a stream of tears, mingling with the foaming drool pooling around her pinkish lips with every viscious snarl.

I need it.

The voice in her head pushes the haunting tune, louder and louder it calls out, her humanity long since abandoned.

She picks up a scent, a faint yet tauntingly delicious scent that seduces her taste buds as she longs for the coppery juices of gleaming crimson soaking soft meaty chunks. Her feet seem to move themselves, running and limping in a fevering haste to find this delicacy. Gone are the moments of hesitation and inward battles, driven mad by starvation as nothing else would do, nothing else would be palatable to her twisted taste buds, drooling and foaming in anticipation.

Clumsily tumbling over a large bin, she gives off a rather rattling bang that startles something nearby.

And the games begin. Slowly parting the curtain of twisted brunette waves she raises her eyes and in her field of vision...

I can't take it.

... A young male...

Flesh.

... With dark hair...

I need it.

... And a good build.

Meat.

In seconds she has it down, smashing the head against the ground repeatedly before leaning closer, her tongue taking a trip over the warm flesh dribbled with the rabid saliva pouring from her open mouth. She hovers over the flesh with her teeth inches from sinking in.

Such beautiful brown eyes.

And it registers, like a sledge hammer bringing down her sins in one heavy smash. She looks over the lifeless form with wide eyes, fear and doubt fuming up as she shakes the body, the young man now as responsive as a rag. Her floodgates open, streaming down her cheeks, fear induced urine trickles down her thighs soaking the man's lower abdomen were she straddles the corpse.

Please, please wake up. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please... open your eyes, smile, and tell me I'm forgiven.

She screams breaking out into a screeching cry. The guilt, the fear, the hunger, the loneliness and the cold overwhelming her body, weighing on her mind and tearing her soul apart.

Her crying session is abruptly ended by a skull wrecking slam that heavily distorts her sight and wrenches her off the dead man. Her back arches violently against a metal pipe, etching its work into the steel.

With her vision bloodied and blurred, migraines pressing down when she tries to focus, but she pushes it, getting a glimpse of the neat white coat with similar gloves that clutch tightly unto a silver-plated briefcase. The case seems light in the coated person's hands so it could not be the instrument that cracked her skull, but noticing the lack of any other weapon she concludes the man must be rather strong.

Still, this person had knocked her on the side of the head, inflicting a major migraine, disturbing her process of mourning, and prohibiting her meal. The coated fool has stretched her tolerance level past its limit and her reserve just snapped. She does not hold back. She cannot hold back. Vicious rage and animalistic instincts take over, her blood runs hot and her grin reaches her ears.

She never launches though, never moves from her crouching position, her tense muscles seize then release and her body slumps. Her head, though soars through the air for an eternal couple of seconds, during which the ghoul never takes her eyes off the face, the pale face of the coated human whose gloved hands are clutching the blood soaked bio-weapon that has replaced the brief case, her last conscious thought being.

Beautiful woman.


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Victorious.**

 **Now the stories will be one story per chapter.**

Slipping past the crowd and into the closet the young redhead thawed the silvery bond in her palm, contemplating the dreary consequences of confrontation.

He was in there. Just waiting.

And it was calling, the cool metal yearned to join the rest of its counterparts that dressed her fingers in gleaming metal and colorful gems.

Just sliding it on would be so easy so soothing, the ring she had grown so accustomed to. It would make her feel whole again.

She gasps, pulling it off. In her weak moment, she almost gave in. He's on the other side. He'll be watching. She can't deal with that.

She makes to drop it, but can't her hand won't let go of the offending ring.

Seeing him again would be unbearable.

He was no good for her.

Letting him come would be too dangerous.

She nods to herself with conviction and opens her eyes.

The pitch black form stares through violet flames licking wildly at the tight walls of the closet.

She blinks.

Cat…

"No, no, no …" she murmurs repeatedly, shaking her head and shutting her eyes tight.

Er…

Looking through foggy tears, the ring is right there, a perfect fit on her finger, like all the others. His soul will haunt her forever. Like all the others. His empty eyeholes will watch her forever, like all the others.

I…

His burning hands will reach out forever, scorched fingers so close you can smell the sulphur, but always far enough to keep reaching constantly. Like all the others.

Na…

"No" she cries out and the door swings open, a concerned boyfriend rushing in as the burning fiend dissipates.

"What's wrong, Little Red?" he asks, genuine worry filling his tone as he holds the shaking redhead who stares into space, frightened.

"I'm under my bed, I'm under my bed, I'm under my bed …" chanting the mantra, she slowly calms as the dark skinned boy placing soft kisses on her forehead, rocking her slowly.

The last of the flames disappears.

Her eyes clear up and she blinks the tears away, looking up to the dreadlocked boy with strong arms around her.

"Hey Andre" she chimes, perked up and smiling.

"You okay?" he queries, watching her warily.

"Yeah, what are we doing?"

He smiles wryly and sits himself beside the girl, "We're having a closet party".

"Yay! I love closet parties… but I don't have any spoons. Phooey!"

"Don't worry, Red. We'll get spoons".

Getting to his feet and pulling her with him, he slings an arm around her waist and they leave the gloomy utility closet.

"Oooh, cozy" she taps his shoulder lightly as they walk out.

He doesn't understand her episodes, and doesn't try to anymore. He's just glad she comes back each time.

She doesn't remember her episodes, and never tries to. She just knows Andre's going to be there at the end and he says they'll go get spoons. Though they never do return to the closet party. Or get the spoons for that matter.

 **Robbie Shaprio committed suicide, the year before, earning Cat a new ring to add to the collection for souls that she had pushed to suicide. Whether intentional or not.**

 **His dark purple flame burnt for the first time in that closet. An eternity of torment in Hell he now suffers.**

 **Now shackled amongst the souls, waiting for the day. The day their suffering will be worth it. The day she comes down to join them.**

 **Till then, their curses will rain on her for her eternity. However long it may be.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own Victorious or the game used here.**

 **Okay, for a while I'm going to be doing a bunch of crossovers with some games. As in it will be set in the game world. If you can't figure out which game it is before the chapter ends. The game title will be at the bottom.**

 **Let me Know if there are any games you want me to do, hopefully I've played said game, but if not I'll make it work.**

Wiping dark blood from silver, he cleans his blade. Giving it a fitting shine, before sheathing the monster killer beside its less powerful, yet equally menacing counterpart.

What once stood guard as a menacing griffon, rests in a marred heap of its own butchered flesh. Its head free from its neck and tied to the saddle of a very loyal steed.

The wind hits his face, ruggedly handsome, scarred from previous battles and glaring with intimidating amber eyes. His white hair flowing with the deft touch of the wind.

It blows east, going around the house, with the faintest trace of cinder. And something else, something he'd grown so accustomed to. Vanilla and hints of coffee.

"She's here." He confirms to himself. His partner Robin, currently nursing a grave wound, was left in the small town a few days south of his current position.

He is alone. He prefers it that way.

So does her.

Making mental notes as he reaches the worn out door of the small cottage. Vines overgrown, crops withered, roof caved. He taps lightly on the infested wood of the door and it confirms his suspicions falling in with a loud thump as it raises dust and dirt, pulling a few cobwebs with it.

"Not really her style" he adds. Then again, he really doesn't know her as well as he'd thought. She'd proved that to him back at Hoart Woods.

The world around him dims as his concentration peaks. A gift you would call a sixth sense that heightens smell, taste, touch, sound and sight.

Prints, small, female. Hers.

And another set following closely behind. Larger and deeper. Someone wearing heavy armor. Nilfgaardian maybe.

Was she followed?

The witcher himself though never wore more than his usual. Leather breastplate over a plain shirt with chain-mail shoulder pads and gloves. A pair of pants and hunting boots.

He doesn't need heavy armor for protection.

The foot prints lead to a one end of the room, there her prints break off and head for the table before returning to the man's side.

Beyond that point is nothing. They stops there.

Either they started climbing walls or teleported. The lack of human prints in the mess on the walls is puts the first out the window.

So.

Taking a knee, the witcher looks over the final prints, the dust is spread back around them, as though blown by an unnatural source of wind. The wood in front of the prints is quite sturdy, no way that much wind came from there. So a portal was opened definitely.

He rises turning to the table, it was the first thing to pick his attention anyway. Dust covered, rotten wood, decayed food. Or at least it was food.

She was quite obvious about this. Leaving the penchant in plain sight. It was nothing too difficult, a simple ritual anyone with the slightest affinity for magic could do, if given enough time. But, it is child's play for a witcher. And she knows that.

A little flame would do the trick.

Just then, his ears pick on the harsh breathing. Which he thinks it strange for the room is empty. Not much to hide behind here, and even if he'd have noticed the presence.

Then again, there's still no presence. Just the breathing, heavy, like that of a savage waiting on prey.

A true hunter would know to halt his breathing, slow it down and space it out. But a savage is a beast driven near mad by its hunger.

He continues as though unaware, trying to decipher the beast from its breathing.

His guess is a ghoul, but it could be a werewolf. Taking precaution, he pulls a small pitcher of the bane, swirling the oil a bit.

Now, for the hard part. If he reaches for the blade it would attack no doubt, but in the seclusion of the cottage, there isn't much room to maneuver around it. He has to know where it will come from or risk suffering a bitter blow.

It hits him then, how did he miss it. The wall before the prints, sturdy and strong despite the entire cottage being a hollow mess.

One sly look around the edges and he can see the faint glow of red. It's an illusion, he'd most likely stood right before the beast without knowing.

There's no time to spread the oil, he'd have to get a new bottle.

His anger at himself for being so careless is quickly transferred into his sword arm as releases the beast hunter in all its silver glory, shattering the pitcher and smearing the oil over the blade.

Sure enough the man-wolf hybrid leaps from his confines as the witcher kicks the table over, twisting his body out of clawing range and bringing the blade down in a heavy slash across its side.

The beast tumbles to the other side of the small cottage and he wastes no time. Following it in a quick jump step and swinging up. The beast moves quickly, but backs into a wall and takes the tip of the blade, leaving another burning sensation across its chest.

It lashes out with massive dagger length claws, and the man steps back, bracing his footing aligning the sword across his chest and sending it forward in a heave. It stabs the beast, cleaving easily through its chest, before returning as he pulls back for one more strike. A quick spin leaves a deep gash in the beast's throat. It slumps forward landing heavily in a pool of its own blood.

The witcher's eyes calm a bit and they pick a faded yellow parchment in the beastman's trousers, which is all the hulking hairy corpse had on.

Pulling it out, he frowns at the words.

" _Good to know you came, Oliver. I was beginning to get worried. I hope you're not and about the messenger, he was dying to meet you. And since you're reading this, I guess he's just dead now. You know how to find me, but it will not be easy. So if you still wish to continue this mad chase after myself, I won't deter you in the least._

 _I look forward to meeting you._

 _Love, Jade."_

And with that it goes up in flames, he turns to the table, righting it and alighting the penchant, a piece of world before him converges on itself, leaving a black hole through which he steps following the Wicked Witch of the West.

 _ **The Witcher III: Wild Hunt.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_I do not own Victorious or the game used here._**

 _The shock wave ploughs through the Sol relay, frying everything even remotely electronic. A bright orange flash moves through our world. Our new world. The world we'd built when we crossed those heavy metal transporters for the first time, not sure what we'd find. The world we'd struggled for through politics, wars and treaties. The world we created, the new world._

 _If anything we were proud, excited, scared. Constantly so scared of the races, the new species we'd met. Some stronger, some faster, some more intelligent than we were, but it was worth it._

 _Quite a befitting end for the human race, to finally find out we were not alone. Not the only intelligent beings, for some of us to_ _fulfill_ _the dream of seeing aliens for the first time._

 _Hell, we'd done it all. Robots that were so close to human, humans that were so close to robots. Myself being one._ _Ha_ _!_

 _Extinction comes for all, that's why I'm here. That's why they came._

 _Reapers._

 _Tore through our world, like the prophecy had said. Maybe the Protheans were our ancestors. Our predecessors who we were doomed to follow._

 _Maybe the end was going to come no matter what we did._

 _Maybe it was all pointless._

 _I guess that would mean the illusive man was right._

 _Now look at me, floating in the debris of what's left of our so called trump card. So many died so it could be built. Only for it to wipe out what survived._

 _I guess that's what unquantifiable destruction is. We asked for it._

 _No. We built it._

 _Hats off to our great predecessors for leaving us the easy way out._

 _One click suicide._

 _Commander, they called me._

 _Commander._

 _Commander Harris._

"Harris!" a fist slamming the console brings the commander back to reality.

"We were asking if you're ready" Lieutenant Vega repeats herself, her concern for her superior and friend showing on her tan features.

He's not in space, waiting to die. The war isn't over, not yet. Its end is still a mystery, but for now he's not floating among debris, he's surrounded by his inter-species crew on the HA Normady.

Looking around, he finds his team watching him with concern, well most of them anyway. A certain Krogan couldn't care less, at least it looks that way.

He smiles to himself, pulling back his dreadlocks and looking around again.

If he's to die from fight, he couldn't have picked a better team. All five of them.

So, the daydream begs the question.

All this.

Was it pointless?

Is it pointless?

 ** _Mass Effect 3._**

 ** _AN:_** ** _Is unquantifiable an actual word?_**

 ** _Need to know._**


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm sitting on my ass watching the life drain from Cat's features. Jade's arms locked tightly around her neck, flexing with every squeeze._

 _I'm doing my best to trust Jade and stay put, partly because I'm not very eager to meet the edge of Jade's boot again._

 _As she whispers sweet nothings into the redhead's waning mind, I feel a bit reassured that it's a sleeper hold like Jade said._

 _As Cat goes limp, I move closer, earning a light glare from Jade._

 _"Sorry" I fall back, waiting till Jade is ready._

 _"Yeah" she sighs, pecking Cat on the forehead and waving me over._

 _Fifteen minutes later we're on the road in Jade's car, I'm at the back with Cat's head in my lap. I've resolved to wait for Jade to talk, it's easier to get things out her that way, but the waiting process is not easy._

 _"Do you run?"_ _And suddenly, I'm worried she might chuck me out of the car. Or something._

 _"Run?" I mentally face-slap at my own lame question._

 _"Yeah" she replies, "go for morning jogs, or a jog in the evening... That sort of thing" looking at Cat briefly._

 _"Not often, why?" I follow her eyes as Cat stirs lightly._

 _"Well, there's this feeling called a runner's high, it's like a point where you're between comfortable and energetic. Your adrenaline flow is insane and you feel... Alive or like super excited. I guess" she meets my eyes in the rear view mirror._

 _"Okay, what about it?"_

 _"Psychopaths and serial killers get this feeling or something similar, it's called the thrill of the kill. Like a runner's high that runs on the excitement of a murder or just general chaos." Jade explains further._

 _"I'm not following" I have to be honest, I'm not sure what she's talking about or why she's talking about it now._

 _"Well... Yes, remember when we smashed Festus' car."_

 _"Ugh! Unfortunately yes." Something I will always regret._

 _Jade rolls her eyes, "It was bad, but kinda exciting, right? I mean to wreck something."_

 _"Yeah, I guess."_

 _"You guess? You were whooping louder than I was."_

 _"Okay, yes it was fun."_

 _"That's what I mean, that rush we got from wrecking the car is close to what I'm talking about."_

 _"Yeah, but why are we talki-"_

 _"Cat..." Very nice, just fut me off. "You know she takes meds right? The reason is because Cat has a pretty junked up moral compass. I mean I do stuff to piss people off or mess with authority, but Cat does the same things for fun. And she doesn't know when to stop, like I said a really messed up moral compass."_

 _"Cat? So she's like a psychopath?" I'm not sure I want to know._

 _"No, no. More sociopath, like she's still fun, loves sweets, very bubbly and friendly, so she practically farts rainbows on and off her meds that's just her, but she just has the tendency to play pranks or just ruin something for no good reason."_

 _No offence, but it kinda a sounds like you. I guess my opinion shows on my face because she groans._

 _"When I say pranks, I'm talking from a trout in your locker to setting your car on fire. And the bad part is she doesn't see what's wrong even when someone gets hurt. She does it to pretty much anybody. Her brother's left ear is busted, she gave him some over the top wet willy when she was seven. Her dad walks with a cane cause of one of her marble experiments, he had to wear a cast for so long and she still though it was funny."_

 _"Woah!.." I can't believe this is Cat we're talking about._

 _"I'm not saying she's some kinda witch, but she tends to go overboard when she plays... I mean she gets worried and cries when you're hurt, but she doesn't feel bad about the fact that when caused it. Or it doesn't register. Cat's drugs are practically molly with a label. Sober Cat's not crazy, just morally bankrupt. And she was off her meds today."_

 _"Why? She sound pretty dangerous." I won't lie I'm scared._

 _"She's not and I took her off the meds. She just needs help, her parents left the country to find help for her basket case brother, so I'm in charge of her. And I've been asked to slowly try to get her used to normal life. I mean she's has no fear, she's unpredictable, she's kinda scary and tends to have violent fits... I guess sober Cat is kinda badass" she smiles fondly._

 _"-But she's crazy fun though, crazy fun."_


	10. Chapter 10

Caterina Valentine isn't very different without her daily medication. A bit homicidal and lacking in some human faculties like empathy or guilt.

She's scary in the sense that she is unpredictable; still quite peppy and jovial, but known for the occasional flash of mischief. Well, to her it's mischief, but to anyone else it's pure psychotic mayhem. Her little pranks range from stealing a person's glasses to watch them fail at trying without it, to torching a person's car to see how long it takes to for the flames to cover it.

She has barely any restraint and pretty much says and does anything that pops into her mind. She tends to have rather physical outbursts for no real reason other than the need to hit something.

She is hard to keep up with, still as energetic as she is with her medications, but more prone to violence. According to the family doctor, who handles her brother's rather similar problem, the part of the brain that handles her moral compass isn't fully functional as well as the part responsible for empathy so she has trouble seeing the fault in her actions.

Her brother's case is rather serious as he has been diagnosed as a clinically psychotic patient. Caterina is on the other hand less of a problem as she can actually be taught, but the progress will be slow and risky.

Caterina is not a bad person, just dangerously mischevious. She is very friendly, but very blunt in her way of speaking and it will take some time to understand and get used to her behaviour. This is why I have sent this email to you.

You are her best friend and the only person I know can handle the real her, please help us guide our dear cupcake, she needs to adjust to real life rather than contsant hallucinations. As of today, we have proceeded to stop her medication and allow her to live normally. The doctor advises against it, but we don't want her getting addicted to these medications or she will never have a normal life.

We will be spending the next year in Denmark, her brother requires serious help. Please take care of her.


	11. Chapter 11

The raging cries move over Jarl Harris' men as they breach the gates of Fort Vega, pushing their adversaries back into their own defences.

They advance steadily, trading blades and blows. The men under Harris' banner are true Vikings, with bare chests and heavy axes, they cleave into the opposition, deathly clouding their enemy's morale.

But then, a boot stomps and a horn blows drawing attention to Lord Vega, a knight in all her glory, the confidence of her gait and the gleam of her very armour set her men back in place, with their morale touching the blue sky above the siege.

Jarl Harris is yet to be seen, and Knight Lord takes no prisoners, dashing the lives from the fools who dare to cross her path. Her round table disperses, hand picked soldiers making her proud.

Then...

It flies across the battleground, like hawk over sea, landing with a spray of dirt at the Knight Lord's feet.

It's a head, clad in the finest helming from her personal armoury. She takes up courage and turns the head, knowing fully well the lifeless face she is to greet.

Her own beloved, the only child she ever had. The brave king kisses his head one last time and charges into the onslaught, her war cry reaching the heavens.

At her greying age, her eyes and limbs should not agree easily, but she makes quick work of her foes; holding the title of Silver Devil high.

A resounding thud shocks the battlefield anew, knights are flung in her direction, clearing a path for the Jarl.

The young king of the unethical and the savage the new generation of might. His thick dreadlocks fall over his massive brown chest as he heaves.

The old knight of the unblemished and the worthy, the old generation of grace. Her grey streaked brunette locks dance in the wind as she discards her helmet.

He smiles hauntingly, she grimaces.

Then, they charge


	12. Chapter 12

Molten wings beat, sparks floating in a swarm of ash. It stands on its hefty hind legs, claws grazing the sheets of the bedding where it stays, strangely mounted on the rather thin footrest.

Doctors mill around the heaving woman, her legs wide as the child crowns.

Her face is flushed and her breaths are laboured, but her eyes stay trained on the end of the bed.

It hasn't moved, she knows why. The creature's eyeless holes are trained on her inner thighs. It's gangly arms are poised at its sides.

She grips the sheets tight with one hand, the other hidden in the mound of pillows behind her head.

"It's coming, breathe again and push" she does. Determined eyes watch the beast at her feet and her grip on the blade tightens.

The mother knows she will never hold her child, yet the will to fight cheers her on. Her actions may determine the child's future and she is willing to risk it.

A nervous laugh, followed by needy wails.

It's born. But, the creature remains still. Watching.

The mother is unnerved by this. Second guessing.

"It's a girl" the doctor sighs.

Breaking her guard, she steals a glance at the child. Her child.

Her resolve renews and she steels waiting on the thing at her feet.

A nurse aids the doctor and the umbilical cord is severed.

Then, like clockwork.

It bursts forth and she springs to intercept, freeing the igneous broadsword.

It reaches the child. She cuts at the head, but severs its ghastly hand instead and it retaliates, tail knocking her into the headrest.

With the child in hand, it turns on the woman, tearing her to shreds before digging into the floor.

On the floor below, there are no reports of a disturbance.

The doctors are puzzled. With no complications during the delivery, it's shocking when the mother flat lines. Followed immediately by the child.

The detatched hand twitches.

Emerging from the dark clay that covers the landscape, a tall man in drab clothing carries an infant in his one good hand. Trailing blood from his other arm up the walkway to the only structure in this massive cavern of geysers and molten rocks.

This is just my vision of Trina's kidnapping in the fan fiction story War of the Immortals by Tsubasa K. Kruger. A tribute of sorts. Except for the Holly dying, that didn't happen in the actual story.


End file.
